Parf in Glîr Tolkien
by dreamingfifi
Summary: A Book of Tolkien's Songs, translated into Sindarin.
1. I Lant Gilgalad

Disclaimer: I do not own the copyrights to J.R.R. Tolkien's poem, The Fall of Gil-galad.

_I Lant Gil-galad_

Gil-galad aran edhellen.  
I thelegain linnar asson:  
I arn vedui ardh vain a lain  
Min eryd ar i aearon.

Megil dîn anann, ech dîn laeg,  
Thôl hílol dîn palan-dirnen:  
In elin ernediaid menel  
Tirn ned thangail gelebren dîn.

Palan-norn io ann an ndôr chae  
Ar ú-ben pêd man sad dortha  
Tinu dîn dannant ne dúath  
Ne Mordor, i merchaint ennas.

Gil-galad was an Elven-king.  
Of him the harpers sadly sing:  
the last whose realm was fair and free  
between the Mountains and the Sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen,  
his shining helm afar was seen;  
the countless stars of heaven's field  
were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,  
and where he dwelleth none can say;  
for into darkness fell his star  
in Mordor where the shadows are.


	2. Athelas

Disclaimer: I do not own the copyrights to J.R.R. Tolkien's poem, Athelas.

_Athelas_

Ir i thûl vorn thuia  
A guruthos gala  
A caladath gwannar  
Tolo athelas! Tolo athelas!  
Cuil nan ben firiel  
Min gam aran saidiol!

When the black breath blows  
And death's shadow grows  
And all lights pass,  
Come athelas! Come athelas!  
Life to the dying  
In the king's hand lying!


	3. An Gurth Arangwaith

Disclaimer: I do not own the copyrights to J.R.R. Tolkien's poem, _At Théoden's Death_.

_An Gurth Arangwaith_

Avo nallo hí! Beleg i ben dhannen,  
Govannen vethed dîn. Ir cum dîn orthannen,  
Biss nallathar. Auth cân hi ammen!

Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,  
Met was his ending. When his mound is raised,  
Women then shall weep. War now calls us!


	4. I ‘Lîr Puigad

Disclaimer: I do not own the copyrights to J.R.R. Tolkien's poem, The Bath Song.

_I 'Lîr Puigad_

_Linno ai! Anin buigad nan meth aur  
I puiga dad i vaw 'ern!  
Heledir ú-linnatha:  
A Nen Urui nad arod!_

_A! Laer lenn ross eliol  
Ar i gelu i câb o tunn a lad;  
Ar a-vaer dadh ross egor sîr víriel.  
Nen Urui i anna osp a fân._

_A! Nen ring iuitham am mbaur  
Dad lanc faug a gell ovor  
Ar a-vaer viruvor, ae ú-'erim huith  
A Nen Urui pennol thar-thraw_

_A! Nen bain i câb bo  
Vi lîn fain di-venel  
A ú-lîn uireb sui lenn  
Sui tail nîn teliad mi Nen Urui!_

Sing hey! For the bath at close of day  
That washes the weary mud away!  
A loon is he that will not sing:  
O Water Hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet sound of falling rain,  
And the brook that leaps from hill to plain;  
But better than rain or rippling streams  
Is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

O! Water cold we may pour at need  
Down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;  
But better is Beer, if drink we lack,  
And Water Hot poured down the back.

O! Water is fair that leaps on high  
In a fountain white beneath the sky;  
But never did fountain sound so sweet  
As splashing Hot Water with my feet!

Reconstructed words:

Puiga- to wash, cleanse. I built it from the root POY.  
A-vaer- better/best. I used the superlative that Thorsten reconstructed from Quenya.


	5. Glaer Boromir

Disclaimer: I do not own the copyrights to J.R.R. Tolkien's poem, Boromir's Riddle.

_Glaer Boromir_

Tirio 'ni vagol ristannen:  
Mi Imladris i dorthatha;  
Dal lŷth bennin morgul ogol,  
Govannas athrabeditha.  
Mach bîn e-gam tírathar  
Ar i amarth telitha,  
Dagnir Ithildur echuiatha,  
ar i beriann ethelitha.

Seek for the Sword that was broken:  
In Imladris it dwells;  
There shall be counsels taken  
Stronger than Morgul-spells.  
There shall be shown a token  
That Doom is near at hand,  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,  
And the Halfling forth shall stand.


	6. I 'Laer Pador

Disclaimer: I do not own the copyrights to J.R.R. Tolkien's poem, The Riddle of Strider.

_I 'Laer Pador_

Mallath ú-thiliar,  
Ú-randirath mist;  
Brúnath vill ú-firir,  
Heleg thynd aind ú-vâb.  
Naur o lith lachatha  
Gaul o dae labatha  
Magol rist peniathar  
Pen bedh-rî ad aran.

All that is gold does not glitter,  
Not all those who wander are lost;  
The old that is strong does not wither,  
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,  
A light from the shadows shall spring;  
Renewed shall be the blade that was broken:  
The crownless again shall be king.


End file.
